


Public

by beejohnlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, M/M, Public Sex, Sherlock has prepared you see, like half a second of rimming?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beejohnlocked/pseuds/beejohnlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock cannot wait. John doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Public

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Irrevocably_Sherlocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrevocably_Sherlocked/gifts).



John is pissed off, and rightly so. He and Sherlock were out on a case and Sherlock took off. That wouldn’t be such a problem normally, except that in this case, Sherlock left John behind. Abandoned him for no other reason than he apparently needed to look something up at Barts. 

'He promised he wouldn’t do this anymore,’ John’s annoying thoughts remind him. And it is true. Sometimes Sherlock will be excited about something, sometimes he will be itching to run and move, but ever since their relationship tumbled into the romantic, he always includes John in every whim and wham he has. 

Admittedly, Sherlock was behaving a bit strangely before he left, shuffling and sweating a little. He also seemed distracted, as though he were having trouble ordering his thoughts. John suddenly begins to worry. What if Sherlock is ill? Perhaps he didn’t want to show that kind of vulnerability in front of John. 'But he should know that I’ll take care of him,’ the voice in his mind sulks.

John tries his best not to pout like a toddler as he walks slowly along, shuffling his feet on the pavement and half-heartedly signaling for a cab he already knows he will not get. Sherlock, the bloody giraffe. He never has these issues. 

He’s passing an alleyway a few minutes later when a hand shoots out from his left and yanks him in. John grows so immediately defensive, prepared to kick the everloving arse of a robber, that he nearly knocks out one Sherlock Holmes. 

“Jesus, Sherlock! What the hell are you doing? I could’ve hurt-mmff.” John is cut off by Sherlock’s mouth covering his and Sherlock’s body pressing his back against a brick wall. The kiss is desperate and all-encompassing, and John melts into it quite quickly. After a thorough snogging during which John’s jeans become uncomfortably tight, Sherlock breaks away moves his attentions to John’s neck, sucking and worrying the skin there. 

“Mmm, feels nice.” John is so distracted by Sherlock’s mouth, he fails to notice that at some point Sherlock has undone his flies. A large hand wrapping itself around his prick brings him back to the present. 

“Wait, Sherlock, we can’t do this here.” John looks around them self-consciously. The alley is deserted. 

Sherlock rumbling baritone answers him. “Yes, you’re right. Anyone could happen by. But I need you to fuck me, and it needs to be now. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Take what? What’s gotten into you?” John tries to sound admonishing but it’s very difficult to do when his gorgeous boyfriend is stroking him and nibbling on his collarbone. 

Sherlock responds by using his other hand to undo and lower his own trousers and pants. He takes John’s hand and brings it to his arse. John kneads his hand into the plump flesh and freezes when his fingertip bumps something. Holy hell. John grows dizzy as the realization hits him. Sherlock has a plug inside of him- has had for several hours. 

“Christ.”

Sherlock moans as John once again bumps the plug, making it shift inside him beautifully. “You…asked what’s gotten into me,” he pants. “There’s your answer. And now I want- ah! I want you to take it out and…put your cock there instead. Mmm- please!”

John tries to keep his higher brain function online, but if his groin has any say in the matter, he’s fighting a losing battle. All of his blood has rushed south and pooled there and fuck he cannot stop touching the plug and enjoying the gasps it wrings from Sherlock each time it moves within him. 

“Give me your coat.” Sherlock looks confused for a moment and then realization dawns- much slower than if he hadn’t been stimulated for hours. John looks around once again- still vacant in all directions- and wraps Sherlock’s enormous Belstaff around himself. Sherlock has the gall to laugh at how huge it is on John’s compact frame, but a quick jostle of the plug turns his laugh into a whimper. 

John switches positions with Sherlock and then turns him around so he is facing the wall. Sherlock braces his arms against the brick and cries out as John slowly eases the plug from his arse and puts it in a pocket of the Belstaff. 

"Hush, you’ll get us caught,” John tries not to think about how much that thought arouses him. To have someone see them like this, Sherlock Holmes, the Great Detective, completely undone and begging for cock and his Loyal Sidekick, the good Doctor John H. Watson giving it to him. How scandalised people would be! And they would act disapproving in public, of course they would, shaking their heads and clucking their tongues, but John knows they would go home and touch themselves over it. God yeah they would. They would come hard and fast thinking about what they’d seen.

“John, if you are quite done fantasizing about being caught out, I would appreciate if you’d fuck me already. Otherwise your fantasy will become a reality BEFORE we do our business and I really don’t need to be arrested and still horny.”

John ducks his head a little, because of course Sherlock can read his mind. He looks at Sherlock’s hole, open and twitching, and suddenly needs to be inside of it. On cue, Sherlock’s hand appears, brandishing a small bottle of lube, then he returns to his previous position, silent and trembling. 

John bends Sherlock a bit lower and slicks himself, stroking a few extra times while he looks at Sherlock’s pucker. He cannot help but bend down and tongue it, just a little. The strangled shout he gets in response is very rewarding. 

“You ready?”

Sherlock scoffs. Okay then.

John lines himself up and breaches Sherlock slowly, sinking into him inch by inch, pressing him into the brick and being held in the tight clutch of his arse. Jesus, you’d think after being opened by a thick plug for hours, Sherlock would’ve loosened up, but he hugs John’s cock snugly. 

John begins thrusting steadily, spurred on my the increasingly desperate noises Sherlock is making. 

“Baby, shh, ah! Honey you have to- ah! Be quieter, we’re in public-Oh my god!” John moans loudly as Sherlock begins pushing back against him with each thrust, bracing his hands against the wall and bending deeply at the waist.

John wraps Sherlock’s coat around them both and pounds into his boyfriend, reaching around with one hand to stroke Sherlock’s weeping cock. Sherlock spreads his legs as much as he can while John touches the slick fingers of his other hand to where they are joined. John bites his lip, God Sherlock is beautiful. Every thrust makes Sherlock cry out, quivering and barely holding himself up. Sherlock loves likes to be fucked until he is a writhing, desperate thing. 

“God, Sherlock, you’re so fucking filthy.” Sherlock’s answering groan is just that- deep and hoarse and so fucking dirty. He’s close, John can tell. “God, what if…what if someone walks by? Sherlock, ahh! can you imagine? They’ll see you. They’ll know what we’re doing. Your coat won’t fool them.. They’ll see you…taking my cock so well, ah! Asking for more, harder….deeper…filling you up-”

Sherlock screams with desperation and John feels a familiar fluttering around his cock. Oh yeah, he’s almost there. 

“John, please!” Sherlock sounds completely wrecked.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, Sherlock. Show me how much you want it…yeah, yeah. Make yourself come all around me, please, God!” John is moments away from orgasm himself, but he wants Sherlock to fall first. 

Sherlock begins a quick and bouncing rhythm, John’s hand flying over Sherlock’s cock, the nails of Sherlock’s own hands clawing and scrabbling at the brick, hurtling towards orgasm.  John reaches his other hand around and tugs lightly on Sherlock’s bollocks and suddenly Sherlock is there and coming copiously all over his hand and painting white stripes on the brick in front of him, hips jerking helplessly as he lets out a series of ecstatic moans and shouts of John’s name, his hole clutching and pulling at John in rhythmic pulses, until he’s finally sated. 

As Sherlock comes down and goes limp against the wall, John grips his hips and fucks into Sherlock like a madman, incapable of stopping, Sherlock’s hole still twitching and suckling at him, John is gasping like a drowning man as orgasm finally takes him. “Fuck, Sherlock, yes, yes, take it!” 

It’s fucking brilliant. The combination of pure bodily pleasure and the knowledge that at any moment they could be caught coalesces into a gut punch of bliss, chemicals from his brain making him drunk with it, and for a moment John thinks this is what heaven must be like. 

As the rapture slowly dissipates, John feels hazy with aftershocks but sobers up a bit when he realizes that he and Sherlock are still standing with their pants down -literally- in the middle of London. He suddenly remembers about the existence of CCV cameras as well as of MYCROFT controlling them, and yep, that does it. He pulls out of Sherlock gently and shakes his shoulder. 

“Sherlock we have to move.”

“Mmmnnnhh.”

John pulls up his own jeans and gets working working on his boyfriend’s. 

“Come on, Sherlock.”

“Don’t want to. Why don’t alleys have beds?”

“You git! This was your idea you know!” 

Sherlock finally stands from his slumped position. 

“You’re the one with a butt plug in your pocket.”

“This is your coat!” John cannot help but giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation though. Sherlock gives an imperious sniff, and for someone who was just fucked and still has the evidence inside his arse, he’s remarkably unaffected. 

“I’ll take the coat, but you need to buy me dinner.” Sherlock smiles softly and kisses John as he removes the Belstaff from his shoulders and swings it around his own. 

John hums his approval at the kiss, still mildly shocked that NO ONE happened by during their little tryst- at least not to his knowledge.

“You always get what you want,” he says fondly. Anyone ever tell you that?“

Sherlock grins. "It’s because I have you to give it to me.”


End file.
